Manners and etiquette cost nothing. That is, my stepmother’s younger sister, who apparently had been quite the beauty in her day, had married a baron, and actually spent a good deal of time at court. Since she had borne only sons, she had no daughters who would be rivals for the Emperor’s hand, and so she took it upon herself to pass on her own knowledge of the court.
“‘Your Majesty,’ of course, for the Emperor, and the dowager Empress. ‘Your Highness’ for the Crown Princess, ‘Your Grace’ for any dukes or duchesses who might be present. Anything below that, and you’re safe with ‘my lord’ or ‘my lady,’ thank goodness,” said Lady Khorinne, sipping from a delicate etched glass filled with rhubarb cordial. “If you are very lucky, and His Majesty takes a particular interest in you, then he may give you leave to address him by his given name, but of course you should never do such a thing unless you have a very clear invitation.”
“And is he so very handsome?” sighed Shelynne, who apparently did not care much for titles and wanted to get to the heart of the matter.
“His Majesty is the handsomest man I ever saw,” the Baroness declared at once. “Begging my husband’s forgiveness, for of course he is a very fine man as well, but nothing next to the Emperor. You must count yourselves very lucky, girls, that he is being so magnanimous in giving this opportunity to the young women of his own land, instead of ignoring them in favor of a foreign princess.”
Of course my stepsisters chimed in at once that yes, he was being so very generous, and that they could not wait to see him for themselves.
“Ah, well, not much longer,” said the Baroness. “Only a week left, and so much to do!”
“Yes,” my stepmother put in, with a significant glance at Jenaris’ waistline, which had not diminished much over the preceding three weeks. “We must do everything we can to be ready.”
At that point she sent me to the kitchen to fetch some cakes — “but none for you, Jenny!” — and so I missed the rest of the lesson. Just as well, for my mind was churning. Only one week left! And unlike my stepsisters, I had nothing I could outwardly do to prepare. My prayers, and my worries, I kept to myself.
* * *
The fateful day dawned cool and misty, a good sign, and a welcome respite from the heat that had dominated most of Sevendre. Almost from dawn the house was a flurry of frenzied activity, from drawing baths for my stepsisters to helping Claris prepare a morning meal that would provide sustenance without bloating them too much, to helping to lay out the elegant gowns prepared by Mistress Rhandil. As this first event was a tournament and would take place outdoors, the dresses were not quite as elaborate as the evening gowns and ball gowns they would wear later in the week, but still very fine — a dark blue dress trimmed with wheat-colored embroidery for Shelynne, and a burgundy one with soft gray embellishments for Jenaris. And after they were dressed, Mari spent almost an hour doing their hair, getting it to lie in sleek, shining curls over their shoulders, then setting the little caps made to match the gowns at precisely the correct angle on the backs of their heads.
Through all this hubbub I saw or heard nothing from my aunt, and began to wonder if she, too, had decided the enterprise was madness and had abandoned it. I should have known she was made of stouter stuff than that, for almost as soon as the hired carriage bearing my stepsisters rattled off down the street and I had gone out to the courtyard to pour out the used wash water, I heard a whisper from the unused stables.
“Ashara!”
I turned and saw my aunt’s face peeking out from behind one of the stall doors, and quickly set down the basin I was carrying. After taking a quick look around to make sure I was unobserved, I slipped inside.
Aunt Therissa wore a hooded cloak, but she had slipped the hood back. Her dark eyes shone with excitement as she looked at me. “Are you ready?”
“I-I think so,” I stammered. “That is, I have been watching my stepsisters practice their dance steps, and I know which fork to use first, and — ”
“That is not what I asked,” she said, interrupting me, although her tone was gentle. Her gaze met mine, and I found I could not look away. “Are you ready?”
My heart began to beat faster, and my fingers suddenly felt as if they had been carved from ice, but I managed to nod. “Yes, Aunt Therissa. I am ready.”
A smile then, although I could not say whether it blazed forth because she was relieved I had not backed out at the last minute, or simply because I had called her by her name for the first time. “Good. You are your mother’s daughter after all.” Once again she murmured words I could not understand under her breath.
I looked down and saw I wore a gown of heavy russet silk, almost the color of my hair, with a subtle pattern of leaves woven into the fabric. Trim of copper and bronze edged the sleeves, and fine lace peeked above the edge of the low-cut — but not too low-cut, as this was a daytime event — bodice.
“Beautiful,” she breathed. “He will see no one else, once he catches a glimpse of you.”
“I rather doubt that,” I said dryly, but she only laughed.
“Very well, I will leave that to the gods, but you must be off. I have a carriage waiting just down the street. Hurry!” And even as she said that last word she muttered something else, and I was looking back at myself, down to the fingernail I had newly broken that morning and the fresh burn along the edge of one hand, from carelessness with a bread pan still hot from the oven.
I stared, but she only shook her head. “’Tis nothing that you haven’t seen before. Now go, and make me proud! Just be sure to be back before twelve hours have passed, for I can’t hold the spell any longer than that!”
As I didn’t trust myself to speak, I only nodded, then slipped out of the stables. No one was watching, no doubt still occupied with cleaning up the aftermath of my stepsisters’ preparations, and so I was able to steal away unobserved. The promised carriage waited a few doors down, and I hurried toward it, accepting the hand of the driver as he lifted me into its interior as if I had done that sort of thing every day. After all, this was my first test. I must make him believe I belonged here, or certainly no one else would.
But he only bowed, and shut the door behind me, then moved on to take his perch up front. I heard him chirrup to the horses, and the carriage began to move forward. Clenching my hands in my lap, I willed myself to be calm.
No matter what happened, there was no going back now.
Chapter 4
Torric
“Well, I see you’ve managed to make a spectacle of things once again,” my mother commented in the acid tones she’d perfected over the years. “How on earth are you going to choose one young woman from all that?” And she pointed with her fan of carved ebony and peacock plumes in the direction of the milling crowd, one that was far more weighted toward the female sex than any crowd at a tournament generally might be.
Of course I would never admit such a thing to her, but I did begin to wonder if she had a point. We had estimated and we had guessed, but we hadn’t known for sure until we opened the gates to the tourney field exactly how many prospective brides might answer the summons. Judging by the brightly dressed throng below, it had to be at least four hundred.
Lyarris, ever the diplomat, leaned forward and smiled at Mother, something I was rarely able to do. “I daresay it looks rather overwhelming from up here. But I trust Torric to sort them out quickly enough. After all, you won’t give anyone who isn’t handsome a second look, will you, brother?”
I shot her a sour glance then, even though I knew she was probably right. After all, what was the point of such an exercise if I ended up with a plain wife? Certainly somewhere among that mass of young women, even now heading toward their seats in the stands, there must be one who was lovely in addition to being intelligent and charming. That couldn’t be too much to ask.
However, I did not deign to reply, but instead scanned the crowds, although at this distance attempting to pick out any true details of their faces and figures wa
s difficult. Here and there I thought I saw a girl whose countenance seemed pretty, or whose person promised to be pleasing. But none of them stood out all that much, and I began to wonder if this tournament had been that wise an idea. True, at the end, after the victor had been crowned, we would all move to a series of pavilions set up beyond the fields, where we would take refreshment, but that was some hours off. And in the meantime I would have to sit up here in the imperial box and pretend to be interested in the doings of the horses and their riders.
Ah, well, better to be up here than down there, sweating under the heavy mail and perspiring even more in concentration. I recalled those days all too clearly; my father had of course made sure I had thorough training in arms, although the chances of my ever having to lead an army into battle were slender enough. At any rate, I had enough experience that I knew it was far more pleasant to be watching the clash of arms, rather than down on the field collecting a new set of bruises that would last for days.
I did note a distinct lack of brightly colored favors fluttering from the warriors’ belts or their sleeves. Most of the men gathered to display their battle prowess today were younger and unmarried, but I wagered that most of the young ladies who were similarly unattached had not wished to bestow their favors upon mere knights or even baronets or dukes’ sons…not when they had set their sights on an attachment far more lofty than that.
“Ah, quite the turnout,” came Lord Keldryn’s falsely hearty tones from behind me. I glanced over my shoulder to see him bowing to my mother and my sister, then rising as he surreptitiously wiped at his face with a silk handkerchief, though the day had turned out to be fairly mild.
“My son is quite the prize,” my mother replied, a response that would have sounded neutral to almost anyone else. However, I caught the edge of irony in her tone, and forced myself to remain silent, to act as if I were still engrossed in watching the milling crowd below me.
Although I had decided to let it go, it appeared my sister had not, for she said at once, “Of course he is a prize, and would be even if he weren’t the Emperor.”
My mother lifted an eyebrow, and I held myself still, wondering which salvo she would launch next. But apparently she did not wish to cause a scene in so public a place, for she said only, “Lord Keldryn, my chair, if you would.”
The chancellor hurried to pull the seat out for her, and even waited to make sure her skirts were all disposed of gracefully before he bowed once again and backed away. Good gods, the man was an earl in his own right, and not one of the footmen. But no one dared gainsay Korrelia Deveras, not even the chancellor.
And, most of the time, not even her son.
Frowning, I took my own seat, and Lyarris settled herself beside me, easily and with no assistance, though her gown was quite as elaborate as our mother’s. My sister wore an expression of pleasant neutrality, but I could tell from the glint in her eye and the small twitch at the edge of her jaw that she was not quite as placid as she appeared to be.
Ah, sister, I love you, but I do not need you to fight my battles for me…
By this point most of the crowd had settled itself on the long rows of benches in the stands, and I saw the first two combatants readying themselves at the far end of the field, raising their helmets in place, taking up the lances their squires had handed them. Still, there were a few latecomers hurrying to get the remaining few seats, their gowns bright against the dry autumn grass and the low fence of whitewashed wood that surrounded the ring.
A gleam of dark copper caught my eye, and I saw a young woman with an astonishing head of dark red hair making her way along the path that led to the stands. Even in profile her face appeared pure and lovely, although I could not make out any exact detail from so far away. Her gown was almost the same dark russet as her hair, her body slender and graceful. There seemed something almost hesitant in the way she looked about her, as if she were not quite sure she belonged there. Not all that surprising, if she were some nobleman’s daughter freshly in from the country. Still, something about her diffidence made her immediately endearing. I found myself wanting to go down to her, to reassure her that of course she was welcome here, that someone so beautiful would always be welcome in my court.
However, I knew if I rose from my seat now, so close to the beginning of the tournament, it would be a severe breach of etiquette. No, I would have to remain here and hope to find her again, and soon. Not that it should prove all that difficult; her hair, so rare and so lovely, would make her stand out in any crowd.
“You’ve spied someone, I think,” Lyarris murmured, her own gaze intent on the scene before us.
“I did,” I replied, in equally subdued tones. “Did you see her? The girl with the red hair?”
“Red hair? That is interesting. No, I did not.”
My gaze followed where she was looking, and thought I could guess at the source of her distraction. Up in the first round was Lord Sorthannic Sedassa, Duke of Marric’s Rest. I had thought for several months my sister had evinced some interest in the man, although she had said nothing on the topic.
It might not be a bad match, even though the duke’s mother was a commoner. But with his sister now wed to the Mark of North Eredor, there could be some political expediency there, above and beyond the weight normally given to a duke and lord of one of the empire’s greatest estates.
Well, time enough to think on that later. This tournament and the events scheduled to follow it had been planned with the goal of finding me a wife, not my sister a husband, and I doubted Lord Sorthannic would marry himself off in the next week. There had been no whisper of a betrothal there, or even an attachment. He was still newly come to his inheritance, having been lord of Marric’s Rest for barely a year, and no doubt he wished to feel easy in his new position before taking on the added responsibility of a wife.
But when I looked away from the field, back toward the stands, I found I had lost sight of the redheaded young woman. The stands were covered by enormous sail-like structures of canvas, and the shadows they cast were enough to dull the hair of everyone sitting beneath them, making it impossible to detect the girl I sought.
“I am sure she is still there somewhere,” Lyarris said, a hint of amusement in her voice. “Be patient.”
“I am patient,” I replied, and settled myself back in the throne-like chair I used for outdoor events such as this. “I am just finding myself wondering who thought it would be a good idea to start off this whole thing with a tournament.”
She refused to be baited. “I believe I proposed it, Torric, but you did not gainsay the idea, so I thought you found it favorable enough.”
“I did…at the time.”
“Well, do try to put on a somewhat pleasant expression, brother, for a scowl such as the one you’re currently wearing will only make everyone who came today think you are not pleased with the turnout.”
I hadn’t realized I was frowning, but her gentle admonishment did remind me that I should not act like a spoiled child deprived of his favorite toy, but rather the ruler of the greatest country in the world. Settling back in my chair, I glanced past Lord Keldryn, who had taken a seat behind my mother, to where Lord Hein, my seneschal, stood watchful in a corner of the imperial box. I knew it was no use to ask him to take a seat; he would remain alert, on duty, ready to remedy anything that might go amiss during the day’s festivities. Indeed, I wondered whether he had slept at all the night before…or whether he planned to sleep until the five days of celebrations were over and done.
“My Lord Hein, we are ready,” I said formally.
“Excellent, Your Majesty.” He moved to the front of the box and lifted his right hand — the signal to the heralds, who lifted their horns and played a brief, stirring succession of notes.
At once the first two combatants — Lord Sorthannic and another knight whose device I did not recognize, a spreading blackthorn tree on a yellow background — entered the ring and bowed to the imperial box, and to the watching crowd in
the stands. Then they took their places at opposite sides of the field, lances held at the ready.
“A wager, Lyarris?” I asked in an undertone. “I believe you would place your bet on the Duke of Marric’s Rest.”
The smallest turn of her head toward me, and she raised her eyebrows. “Torric, you know I do not gamble. It is enough to watch and see their skills in action.”
I repressed a laugh. “Very well, play it cool if you must…but I will see if you are still this disinterested come the ball four days hence, if Lord Sorthannic should ask you to join him in a verdralle.”
This time she said nothing, but the brief color that flamed along her cheekbones told me all I needed to know.
Smiling a little to myself, I returned my attention to the field. Truly, though he was new to his title and indeed to Sirlende itself, having lived here for only the past seven years or so, I knew that Sorthannic Sedassa was a worthy foe on the field. He had been schooled in the tournament arts by none other than Lord Senric Torrival, the Duke of Gahm himself, who once dominated the field before he decided he had broken enough bones and that now a younger generation should prevail.
The marshal dropped the red flag, signaling that it was time for the battle to commence, and the two combatants leapt forward on their mounts, lances pointed outward. Of course, those lances had dulled points, guaranteeing that no warrior would be carried lifeless from the field, as had happened a time or ten in the days before we became more civilized about such things, but even so, a good solid blow could leave a combatant with bruises for some time, even if he was lucky enough to maintain his seat.
Ashes of Roses (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms Book 4) Page 5